


Unlike Home

by jellijeans



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 14:47:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6288730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellijeans/pseuds/jellijeans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>immediately after travelling to nohr, laslow finds himself lacking memories and confused upon who he is and who his friends are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unlike Home

He doesn't know why this happened. He thinks the girl next to him is called Selena, although he is sure her real name is Severa. He doesn't know why, but she is. She seems to be very protecting of him in this weakened, fragile state of his mind.  
"Laslow?" The girl asks. Laslow looks at her. He doesn't understand why this is happening. He is confused, and his face must reflect that, he figures, or else this girl would not seem so worried and upset over this. "Laslow..." she starts, but cuts herself off quickly. She is upset, and there are tears forming in her eyes. Somewhere, deep beyond his memory, all the way in his forgotten subconscious, he knows that he must reassure her. He looks at her, in his gentlest gaze, and embraces her in a hug. She breaks down, sobbing, in his arms. He feels that subconscious pull again, but he doesn't know why. On his finger, he notices a ring.  
"Laslow...I...I can't—" Severa begins. Severa, or Selena? Laslow doesn't know. It confuses him. This whole world...it confuses him. Where is his mother? Where is the rest of his army—the Shepherds? Why is it just him and this Severa, who now goes by Selena for whatever reason, and this Odin? He could have sworn Odin went by Owain. He could've sworn they both looked different, actually, especially their hair colors, but no matter. He is confused, and still not sure where he is or why, but he knows that these people are his friends.  
Perhaps more, actually, with this Severa called Selena.  
"Se...Sev—Selena," he finally manages to stutter out. He finds it good he has not forgotten how to talk, or her...names. It's good that something is familiar. "I'm..." He can't find it within himself to say sorry, because he doesn't even know what he's apologizing for. He stops talking, and looks down at his hands, which are quite tan, and covered in scars. He is confused. The scars confuse him, and his skin tone confuses him. Where did these scars come from? Why is he so tan? The world is spinning faster and faster around him, and he can't help but feel like he is going to throw up. This Odin..."Odin" is over there, reading through some book. In the back of his mind, Laslow knows this book is called a tome, and mages draw their spells from it, but something about Odin strikes Laslow as special. Maybe it's the fact the tome is closed but Odin is still casting, or maybe it's something else.  
Like all things, it seems, Laslow is confused. He doesn't really know about this, either, but he doesn't know about a lot of things, it seems. In fact, he struggles to remember his own name—it's on the tip of his tongue, and if someone said it, he's certain he'd be able to recognize it, but right now, he can't seem to think of it at all. He turns to this girl again, who is sitting cross-legged, sobbing into her hands. There are tears sneaking between her fingers, dripping onto the ground. He can't help but wonder why she's so upset. He feels only a connection of friendship between them, but nothing else, and even then, his memories with her are blurry. A cold gust of wind blows, chilling his fingers, and it's brought to his attention there is something on his finger. He carefully removes his glove, and inspects it.  
It's a ring. Two rings, actually, and behind that, there is a dancer's bracelet.  
The bracelet brings up memories.  
Olivia.  
How could he let this happen?  
Laslow pauses for a moment, trying to regain himself. Here he is, thrown into an unfamiliar world with only semi-familiar faces, and he doesn't recognize himself in the reflection of the metallic bracelet. He sees a brownish-grayish hair color instead of the color he felt like he once had. He looks like a young adult, but the newest memories he can think of have him as a teenager, perhaps sixteen or seventeen. Looking at himself, he thinks he must be twenty-one or twenty-two now.  
Yet again, Laslow is confused. How much time has passed? Why can he only think of so little memories? Odin approaches him, looking concerned. Odin has a sword attached to his side, although whenever he reaches for it, his hand falls limp at his side and he gains an unreadable expression on his face. For once, Odin can grab the sword, but he cannot swing it. Instead, he passes the sword to Laslow.  
"Las...Inigo. Inigo of the Sterling Sword, Inigo the son of Olivia the dancer." Odin begins, staring at him. This Odin character seems greatly confused. Inigo. The name rings a bell in Laslow's mind, and he's certain that this must be his name—he relives vivid memories of a leader with dark blue hair and eyes to match, with a strange pauldron that contains five gemstones in it, telling him he can either stay with this girl—the name Buttercup rings a bell in his mind, although he doesn't know why—or join their army. The Shepherds.  
Laslow's head begins to hurt.  
He doesn't know why he's called Laslow instead of Inigo, or why he's wearing two rings instead of one and a bracelet—he's a man, after all, and a soldier no less. He has no need for idle jewelry—but somehow, he can't bring himself to remove either of the rings, and especially not the bracelet. He turns to Severa—no, Selena, he reminds himself. He turns to her, Selena—and shows her the rings, and the bracelet. On Selena's other hand, there is a ring matching one of his. Laslow becomes confused, more than he already is. He inspects Odin's hands as he stands over there, doing some weird...thing. Odin does not have one of these rings. He doesn't understand why Selena has one and not Odin. Isn't he just friends with Selena? He knows he's just friends with Odin, that's for sure. Selena carefully takes his hand within her hands, and looks at it, face still wet with tears.  
"Laslow...? Do you remember me?" she asks quietly. Laslow nods. "...do you remember us?"  
Laslow's headache becomes pounding.  
He doesn't understand what Selena means by "us". He and Selena...he can't remember their history, only that they came from another world together with Odin and several others to save that world from a dragon named Grima, and he's not sure what it means. He doesn't know.  
"Sev...Selena, what's... 'us'?" Laslow asks carefully. He watches Selena's face, not missing even a flash of an expression. Selena's face, for a split second, contorts into something of unrecognizable emotion, and then she just turns red and crumples, falling to her knees as she breaks down into sobs. Laslow, mortified, puts his hand on her shoulder and embraces her, and she drapes her hands over his shoulders and cries onto his chest, feeling the heartbeat that is so familiar to her but knowing that she is so unfamiliar to him. He can feel his face twist with guilt, but he has no urge to look at himself—instead, he buries his head into his palms, Selena still wrapped around him, as he becomes upset at himself for knowing Selena but not knowing who she is at the same time.  
Laslow can't stand himself.  
It's midnight, and Laslow is still up. Odin and Selena went to bed a long time ago—Selena is a girl, and Odin and Laslow are men, but there are only two tents, so Laslow and Odin share one and Selena takes the other. However, even though Odin and Selena are asleep (or so Laslow thinks), Laslow is still awake, sitting by the edge of an unfamiliar lake in a clearing that's almost like home. Even though he can't remember his connections to Selena, he remembers a dance that came back to him when the bracelet reminded him of Olivia. Some of the fog in his head has started to clear now, so he remembers a few more things, but he has the feeling that he won't be able to remember all of them until something triggers them, if he can get them back at all. Laslow stands up and stretches, and begins to dance.  
His feet find the divots in the ground—they aren't where they were in the forest clearing back home, and they aren't made by his feet pressing into the ground from leaps and turns and spins, but they're still there, and it helps Laslow ground himself. The divots in the clearing back home were like markings on a stage to him—they helped him know when he had leapt too far, when to stop a spin, when to jump or when to start again. For a moment, Laslow closes his eyes and forgets he isn't in the clearing back home—his feet try to find the divots he made there himself after dancing so many times, but they aren't there, so his foot catches on a lump of dirt sticking up from the ground and he falls on his back, winded.  
While he struggles to regain his breath, Laslow looks up at the stars, and realizes that even the stars aren't the same as they are in his world. Laslow is homesick, and he knows it. He wants to go home—he's scared, he's forgotten things, he only has a general grasp of who he's with and what he's meant to do. He wants to have his memories back and he wants to be back at home with the Shepherds and his parents—even if they aren't his real parents—and have whatever life he had before. He wants to be back home.  
Laslow takes a second to stop these memories, and reminds himself that this unfamiliar world is home...  
At least for now.  
He pulls himself up again, struggling to regain his breath, sets his feet, and tries again. He adjusts himself to the new divots and lumps, dancing out his emotions in a physical and spiritual vent, making new moves and combinations as he goes. He finds one divot and turns, feeling the grass and the soil shift beneath his feet, before he leaps to another, swinging his arms around and imagining that instead of an unrecognizable forest clearing, he is on stage with his mother, dancing to a tune that a friend, who, despite his scarred face, is the nicest soul in the world, plays on his violin—  
Brady.  
Laslow remembers Brady. The memory comes rushing at him as he is mid-leap, still in the air—he loses his balance and crashes on his side, his arm catching under his ribcage. His sheath crashes into his leg, and despite the leather preventing his leg from being cut, he can feel the edge of the sword through the leather, bruising his leg. He lies on the ground, winded again, but this time on his side—he can't even dance without having memories of his old world, his old friends. He wonders, do they remember him? Is Inigo still a face in their minds?  
What has Laslow forgotten that they remember?  
Suddenly, Laslow is still on his side, still winded and still bruising, but now he is crying. He wants so desperately to feel strong, to remember what he has lost, to become Inigo again, but he can't. He hates the way his weakened, uneven breathing echoes across the clearing, and he hates how between glimpses free of tears he can see the ones he has already shed lying on the ground next to him. He hates the way that even the stars aren't familiar to him anymore. What once was gentle crying shifted to weeping, and the weeping has shifted to sobbing—Laslow is struggling to regain his breath and struggling to keep himself together all at the same time, and he can't help but pull himself up into a cross-legged position and sob and scream and cry into his hands, already covered in dirt from falling. He hates what he has become—an overemotional amnesiac who has memories but just can't pull them up, who feels ties but doesn't know why.  
Laslow hates himself.  
He finds himself staring at the lake, the waters clear and unrippling—he wonders how the waters would feel if he stepped into them. Slowly, he removes his boots, trying to stabilize his breathing, and then his socks, until his feet are pressed against the damp soil with nothing in between. He walks over to the lake, tears streaming down his face, but he isn't making noise anymore. He is quiet, unlike earlier. The screaming and the sobbing have stopped, but there are still tears, although he doesn't recognize them as he steps closer and closer to the lake until the waters ebb at his toes with every tide. The waters are cold, as there is no sun out to warm them, but the temperature of the water is similar to the temperature of the water back in Ylisse—back home. Before he knows it, he is up to his knees in the water, relishing in the freezing feeling that surrounds him and has made its way up his legs to his torso, and up to his chest and his neck and then his head. Suddenly, he can't feel anything anymore, but he doesn't mind. The numbness from the cold is a welcoming embrace for him, and he's almost tempted to close his eyes and finally be at peace.  
Laslow closes his eyes.  
"Laslow!"  
Laslow opens his eyes, and finds himself returning to consciousness. He doesn't know what just happened, or why he felt like he was fading away. He is only standing up to his knees, or maybe a little higher, in the water. He turns around as best as he can in the water.  
"Laslow!" the voice cries again. Laslow sees that the voice belongs to Odin. His glare softens, although on the inside, he still can't feel, and he still doesn't care. He still hates himself, and he is still homesick for a home that he can't return to.  
He can't return yet.  
Before he knows it, he feels a warm sensation on his hand, pulling at his arm, and along with it, the rest of his body. This warm sensation that encapsules his hand is none other than the hands of Odin, desperate to save him. Laslow is still staring at the lake, at his own reflection, which bears his yellow eyes but not his hair color, and that bears his smile but not...his smile. Laslow realizes that this entire time he's been in this unfamiliar world, he hasn't smiled once. Suddenly, he is ripped away from this reflection as he stumbles onto land, and the numb feeling goes away, but only the numb feeling from the cold. On the inside, Laslow still feels numb, even though on the outside, he knows he isn't. Odin stares at him, panicked and in tears.  
"Inigo! You idiot!" Odin shrieks, crying. Laslow looks at him—there's no such person as Inigo now. There's no such person as Owain, or Severa, for that matter, either. There's only Laslow and Odin and Selena. They agreed that their old lives would be left behind, and as far as Laslow is concerned at this moment, he never lived a day in their old lives. Laslow isn't living in this world, either. He's merely surviving. He's alive, but not living. Odin throws himself around Laslow, and although he's taller than his mercenary friend, he still slouches over so he can place his head over Laslow's shoulder as he cries. "I-Inigo...I mean...er, Laslow...h-how...Laslow! You can't just die! Do...do you know how long you've been in there? You're so...cold, Laslow..." Odin starts saying other things, but they're incoherable due to how much he's crying. Laslow stares at his hands. How long did he stay in there? He presses a finger to the vein on his neck, and recoils at how cold he is. He must've lost track of time. Odin's breathing gets heavier but steadier, and while he doesn't let go of his embrace to Laslow, he starts talking at least somewhat normally. "Las...I heard you...screaming, out here...I woke up and ran as fast...as I could, to find you, and...Las, you were just...standing there, not doing...anything. You were just standing and staring at your reflection and I was...so scared you were dead, Laslow." Odin finally releases his embrace and looks Laslow in the eyes, who even though he isn't having any body movements to show it, is afraid of himself and mortified and scared that he almost died from freezing in that lake in the middle of the night, and Odin can only tell because he's always been able to read Laslow's emotions through his eyes like that. "Laslow, don't...ever go out at night without...someone else." Odin says. "Promise me."  
For the first time in hours, Laslow speaks.  
"I promise."

**Author's Note:**

> this is a different writing style than i usually use, and i won't be continuing this after this, although i do have another multi-chapter fic that i'm writing for this particular squad of characters (laslow, odin and selena), so this won't be the last of this group if you're looking for more. however, it will be in a different writing style, and more stuff will be explained. also, the bracelet that inigo/laslow is wearing is the bracelet he gives to selena in his fates s support, and the two rings are the wedding ring he wears in memory of olivia from their destroyed world in fates and also the wedding ring that he and selena have (as i'm writing this as if selena and him achieved s support in awakening, but he forgets because why not).


End file.
